


Waiting

by Tobiyond



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7850152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobiyond/pseuds/Tobiyond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A heist goes awry and two Junkers wonder if anyone is waiting on the other side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

As he tried to take another breath, feeling his lungs protest through the pain in his chest, Roadhog couldn't help but wonder how things went so wrong so quickly. 

It wasn't a complex heist. No different from those they'd done many times before, maybe even easier than some. Get into the museum. Steal a few priceless antiques that caught their eye. Raid the cash office. Blow the place up. Simple. Efficient. Nothing out of the ordinary for a pair that had made off with the Crown Jewels and more gold bars than they could hope to carry. 

He couldn't, wouldn't blame Junkrat. His bombs were measured out perfectly. His mines laid out right where he wanted them. The boy was chaotic, but he wasn't an idiot. Roadhog wouldn't have trusted him with his life if he was. If anyone was at fault, it was him. He should've kept a closer eye on the patrols. He should've known that one of the guards didn't loop back around at the right time, putting him on a crash course with the last stretch of charges before they were ready. If he had noticed, he could’ve warned the focused Junker. Then maybe that guard wouldn't have shot ‘Rat. Maybe he wouldn't have had to detonate quicker than they'd planned. Maybe he wouldn't be struggling to catch his breath on the wrecked floor.

The sound of coughing tore him back into the present. Fighting against the fatigue, ‘Hog turned his head towards the source and winced. A few bullets and the better part of a building collapse didn't mean much to his large frame, but even from his place on the ground he could see how badly his partner was hurt. Most of Junkrat's good arm was bloody, the awkward positioning making it look broken. There were already dark bruises forming around his chest and neck where the roof had collapsed on him before ‘Hog was able to get him out. His peg leg was crushed and, if the bodyguard was being honest with himself, his good leg didn't look much better. 

Bodyguard. Yeah, some bodyguard he was. The patrol had opened fire as soon as he realized who they were, leaving Roadhog a bloody mess even before the explosion hit. He'd taken the brunt of the collapse as soon as he realized what was happening, but there was only so much he could shelter his boss from. One can of Hogdragen brought back his hearing and reinflated a lung, but the other can was hopelessly destroyed. None for him. None for ‘Rat. 

“H-hey,” came the shaky, rough voice from beside him. There was a smile on the other man's face, but it was obviously pained. “That was a beauty, wasn't it?” He broke into laughter only to have it devolve into hacking. A whine escaped when he caught his breath and Roadhog felt guilt twisting his stomach. He shouldn't be hurt this badly. His job was to protect him and he'd failed. It was only a matter of time before the cops showed up and then what? ‘Hog couldn't stand. He knew that much. One of his legs was torn up and his hip was busted pretty badly. Even if he got up, he wouldn't be able to support his own weight far, let alone carry Junkrat. 

“We, uh, we ain't gettin’ out of this one, are we mate?” The younger man's voice was soft, softer than he could remember hearing it before. Looking back towards him, ‘Hog saw his bright eyes had just finished drifting over his own sorry state and realized he was in no position to save them. They couldn't fight. They couldn't run. They could barely breathe. They were trapped. 

Roadhog opened his mouth to say something, but instead a sick cough racked his body. Whatever wasn't on fire before sure was now. He had to admit. Crushed by a building wasn't one of the ways he thought he'd go. Bike crash during a high speed chase? Sure. Lying on the ground covered in blood and dust and the stench of failure? Maybe that was more fitting. Maybe that was what he deserved. 

The only sound in the room was his labored breathing and it unnerved him. Junkrat had been hurt before and kept talking through it. For him to be so quiet, it must have really sunk in how bad the situation was. Roadhog couldn't keep an annoyed grunt from leaving his mouth at the thought. He was an old man who had done more than enough in his life. Caused enough heartache. Lived enough of it, but ‘Rat? He was too young for this. He still had a whole life ahead of him and now he was going to lose that because of Roadhog. Just like he'd lost his family and any chance to be a kid because of his mistake. 

No. Better not to go down that path. Not right now. Not when he was still there. A sharp intake of breath caught his attention as the smaller Junker used his - now obviously broken - arm to drag his body closer to the large man. He couldn't quite reach him, but he seemed content with what progress he did make. 

“Roadie?” he started, staring up at the ceiling as he spoke. “Do you think my mum will recognize me?” ‘Hog was unprepared for the question and the ache it caused in his chest. They shouldn't be having this conversation. Not like this. “I mean, I was a dirty brat but-” he paused to cough again, “-at least I had all me limbs. And hair. And marbles.” He was obviously trying to laugh again, but all that came out was a high pitched squeak of pain. Eyeing the bruising on his chest, it was a safe assumption that he'd broken a few ribs at least. ‘Hog didn't want to think about how much more damage there was that he couldn't see. 

“W-what about you, big guy?” His voice was curious even through the rasp. “Got anybody waitin’ on the other end for ya?” Those bright eyes were on him again and ‘Hog fought to keep his mouth from twisting down into a heavy frown. With his mask damaged from the explosion, he couldn't hide his expression and it took more effort than he'd like to control it. Did he have someone waiting for him?

His mind drifted to his parents. Father a scrawny, but good hearted man who'd passed away from sickness when ‘Hog was still a child. His mother, all soft smiles and warm embraces, had lived to see her son become the monster that he was now. Despite what the doctor had told him, he still felt that she'd died of a broken heart. She didn’t deserve what ‘Hog had put her through. He didn’t deserve her. No, neither of them would be waiting for him. 

A sudden flash of memory swept across his mind. Fingers much darker than his own cautiously curling around his hand, asking permission to hold it. The sound of a woman yelling at them to behave. The loud, awkward laughter that followed. 

Something he had tried to bury with his old name was fighting it's way back to the surface. The silhouette of a man against the sunset, arm held out beside him expectantly. The ocean water, clean and free of radiation, washing over them as they decided to leave their boards on the sand and wrestle in the waves. 

‘Hog suddenly realized that he’d avoided thinking about something long enough that he'd almost truly forgotten it. Forgotten him. 

“Tamati,” the sound of his voice startled both of them. It was deep even for ‘Hog and Junkrat looked surprised to have gotten an answer, let alone a name. Despite his body fighting him, the large Junker slowly dragged himself up into a sitting position. This wasn't an emotional ride he wanted to deal with lying on his back. He didn't want to deal with it at all, but now that the cogs were turning, he wasn't sure how to stop them. 

He could see the sunlight creeping in wooden slats and landing on a peaceful face, short dark hair framing tattoos that ‘Hog- no, that Mako could trace even with his eyes closed. Then he was waking up again and that face was hovering over him, voice too chipper for the hour displayed on the clock: _‘Kia ora, Poaka!’_

“Hog?” The touch of warm skin on his arm yanked Roadhog out of his thoughts, his rediscovery. ‘Rat had moved forward more until he could finally reach his bodyguard. The look on his face was enough to soften any part of the large Junker’s heart that could've denied him. Shifting with a groan, he reached out and wrapped an arm around the young man's chest, carefully avoiding the worst bruises, and pulled him into his open lap. If the police were going to kill them anyway as soon as they were found, he couldn't bring himself to care about his reputation when they were found curled close together. 

“My husband,” ‘Hog continued, running an aching hand through the flaming hair under his fingers. “From before.” Before the Liberation Front. Before the Omnics. Before everything went to Hell. 

Before Roadhog. 

“Wha’ happ’ned t‘em?” The older man looked down with a concerned frown as his partner’s words became more slurred. The pain must've finally been setting in. Or maybe it was shock. Either way, it wasn't good. 

What had happened to him? ‘Hog shifted through the flood of memories trying to remember. As soon as it hit, he wish he hadn't. 

The bomb was a bad idea. Mako didn't care what the leaders said. He wanted to see the Omnium wrecked just as much as the next person, but this gave him a bad feeling. Smaller hands touched his face, stroked his hair despite the others watching, trying to be comforting. He didn't want Tamati in the group who was setting it up. It didn't feel right and Mako trusted his gut more than he trusted this plan. 

‘I'll be back before you know it,’ he had said. Their fingers laced together and a bit of the worry faded at Tama’s possessive kiss. He'd be right back. They could repair the fence when he was done and then they'd make a celebratory kūmara pie and stuff themselves so full that they couldn't move. It would be fine. He would be fine. 

He lied. 

Roadhog wasn't sure when he started crying, but ‘Rat’s cool metallic hand brought him back as he wiped the tears away. The nerve connection had been damaged, but he could still control the fingers enough to softly stroke his partner’s cheek. This wasn't right. He should be comforting the younger man. Not the other way around. 

“He never made it out of the Omnium,” he said quietly, expecting the small noise of concern that followed. They both remembered the argument that had broken out when ‘Hog told Junkrat that he was a part of ALF, but it had fallen to a safe topic since then. Until this. How had he managed to forget something, someone so important? Someone he had loved and someone he couldn't do anything to save. He couldn't stop the bomb once it started. He couldn't keep it from ruining his home, their home. He couldn't save a young Jamie from growing up in a wasteland. He couldn't do anything. 

‘Rat coughed again, gripping his stomach as best he could with two busted arms. Something was definitely damaged that he couldn't see and, when the scrawny Junker looked up at him, eyes full of love and trust and acceptance of their fate, ‘Hog realized that he was wrong. 

He could do something. 

He could save someone. 

The first try at standing failed, his legs buckling under him and drawing a yelp from Junkrat as he was jostled in his partner’s arms. The second try saw him up. His muscles were screaming, there was more blood than he'd thought, and open wounds stung in the moving air, but he was up. 

His bike was outside. He could make it. Shifting his weight onto the other foot sent fresh Hell up his body and he focused on Junkrat instead. The man was obviously worried about this new development, eyes frantically covering the room and darting back to his bodyguard. They were still unarmed and even his terrible ears could hear the sirens now. 

Roadhog didn't care. They were going to get out. If he could just get Junkrat into the bike, he could figure out the rest of the plan from there. They both needed a doctor, but he would heal. He was sturdy. ‘Rat wasn't. 

Each step was agony. Bullets and shrapnel were still lodged in his back and his lungs struggled to draw in enough air to support him. Junkrat wasn't doing much better at the rough movement, but he still let out an excited shout when ‘Hog deposited him into the sidecar.

A groan of pain echoed through the alley he'd parked the bike in as he threw a leg over the seat. It would start. He knew it would. 

This time, he would do his part. He would save the only person still alive who reminded him that, somewhere under all the leather and spikes, Mako still existed. 

Tamati would have to wait a little while longer, but Roadhog knew he wouldn’t mind. He never did.

**Author's Note:**

> Any notes or comments are welcomed - Tobiyond.tumblr.com


End file.
